In Training
by zipple
Summary: Dumbledore orders Snape to give Harry extra DADA lessons. Understanding dark magic is easy. Understanding each other is not. Nonslash. Please review. It makes writers happy.
1. Potions Class

The world was cruel, and Harry knew this.

All his life, it felt like a knife had been slowly driven into his back. It began when he was a baby, orphaned and forced to be raised by his aunt and uncle. When he had cried, they had beaten him. When he was happy, they locked him away. For the longest time, he watched as his older cousin got the fairer share, even though he deserved none of it. Harry didn't much care to have nice clothes or first pick of desert. All he wanted for the longest time was someone to love him. Someone to listen to him, praise him. Instead, he grew up very lonely and unwanted.

Those were the days; when all he wanted was a little love. It seemed so long ago, and it was just so complicated now.

"Mr. Potter!"

Harry's eyes jolted up from his desk. The quill in his hand was steadily moving, scribbling in big, loopy swirls over his notes. He didn't know how long he had been daydreaming, but by the looks of it, it had been a while.

Professor Snape did not look pleased. He never did when it came to Harry unless Harry was in trouble. His mouth was drawn in a disgusted sneer, his eyes narrow in concentration.

Knowing that he was about to be told off, Harry put his quill down and kept his gaze up at his professor.

Snape glanced down at his paper. "After class, Mr. Potter. We will discuss your lack of attention then." Snape turned on his heel and marched back to the front of the classroom to continue the lesson, deftly ignoring the other students from their snickering and putting an abrupt halt to it by turning sharply and throwing an ice cold glare over the room. "Open books to chapter seven."

As Harry fished out his book and began to read, he couldn't help but look over the pages to find Snape watching him with cold, stony black eyes.

Lately, Snape was always watching.

Harry didn't know why Snape watched him so earnestly. He knew that he wasn't liked by the professor for reasons he wasn't sure of. What he did know was that getting such special attention put a chill through his spine, made an itch at his stomach. The looks he received from the potions master were cold, and he knew that there was something he had to watch for. Was Professor Snape out to catch him for something? Expel him?

Harry's eyes drifted up from his book, only to find Snape staring at him again. Snape was staring like he knew something Harry didn't. Like there was some wrong that in the fact Harry existed at all. He continued staring all through the entire class. It had become obvious to everyone else in the room. Even the other students who were to be studying quietly without distraction knew that Snape was glaring at Harry Potter with unprecedented attention.

The room began to darken as if the sun was disappearing into nothingness. The ice in Snape's stare lowered the room degree by degree until a cloak or two started being put around chilly shoulders.

"Class dismissed," Snape announced, his gaze never wandered from Harry even with all the bustle of the other students fleeing the classroom and its eerie atmosphere.

"Mr. Potter," Snape sneered at Harry once the class had gone. "This is a classroom. You are expected to listen and learn, not stare off into space. Do I make myself clear?"

Harry nodded.

"Good. Because I will not waste my time lecturing to your ears if they are not willing to listen." Snape turned to the cabinet full of potions. "As this is not your first time with this sort of behavior, you will perhaps learn a valuable lesson in paying attention if you are to clean and re-catalog all the potions in alphabetical order." Snape finally dropped his gaze and began taking bottles down onto his desk as he spoke. "I expect them to all be neat, the labels legible, and I expect nothing to be spilled or wasted. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

Harry nodded again.

"And you are not leaving this room until your task is completed unless I give you permission. Is that also clear?"

"Yes, Professor."

Snape stopped what he was doing; narrowing his eyes a little more. After a moment of silence, he tapped his wand loudly on his thigh. "Get to it."

And Harry did.

It had been hard work. Keeping the potions intact and together was difficult enough. But there was the added complication that more than a few of the potions old labels had worn away or were in another language and used different characters than he knew. During his work, Snape had managed to find more bottles hidden in other cabinets and shelves, giving Harry even more to do.

But he was careful, just as he was instructed. He did not drop a potion or waste a spec. He merely kept going quietly, steadily. All the while feeling the burn of eyes on his back.

He missed supper by the time he was done. He was not hungry though.

He wiped his hands free of dust, turning to face Snape for further instruction.

Snape stood, folding his hands behind his back as he walked up to the cabinet. He examined Harry's work carefully; blowing a puff of air onto a shelf to watch the dust rise. When none come from his breath's wake, he dismissed Harry with a twist of his hand.

Harry did not need further instruction.


	2. Dumbledore's Orders

Harry looked up at the entrance to the headmaster's quarters after dinner the next day, holding the note in his hand. It was all very odd to be called to Dumbledore's office without being dragged in by a teacher, or without even knowing why he was in trouble. Maybe Snape had finally found a way of expelling Harry on some odd technicality. If that were the case, Harry wouldn't go without a fight.

Even with the knowledge that Professor Dumbledore had never treated Harry as if he were too stupid to understand, or that he was one of the few wizards that Harry could ever trust; Harry felt a shiver of fear course up his spine. There was a sense of trepidation urging Harry to turn back from the large stone creature that lead to Dumbledore's office.

"Sherbet lemon!" Harry pronounced loudly, watching the creature jump from its place to reveal the staircase. He swallowed his fear into the hallow of his throat. Dumbledore would never call him just to lecture him. Especially when he knew of no wrong he had done other than drift off in Snape's potions class. He had been in worst trouble than that several times before and had never been scolded or expelled.

Inside Dumbledore's office, he heard Snape's voice rising unpleasantly and sounded hushed. Harry winced,

but pushed the door open a crack.

"Professor," Snape hissed. "This is simply not a good idea. I am not the best choice for this assignment!"

"Severus," Dumbledore said quietly, calmly. "I am sorry, but the boy is in too much danger to continue here without special instruction. Furthermore-" Dumbledore tilted his head forward, giving Snape a direct look that Dumbledore had mastered. That look meant that he knew something very personal about its recipient. Even though the gaze was not directed towards himself, Harry could feel the wordless chastisement in his skin. "- some of us have duties when it comes to the protection of our youth."

Before Snape had his chance to answer back, Dumbledore looked to the doorway to see Harry's eyes peeking there way through the slim opening, trying to disappear. Harry's sudden presence did not seem to bother Dumbledore in the least. Rather, it looked as if he had known he was there all along.

"Harry. Come on in, my boy. I do believe we have things to discuss."

It wasn't often that Snape was bettered by someone else; and seeing the brash personality of his teacher clashing against a higher power made Harry give a small, controlled smile. Since Harry came in, Snape had regained some of his composure, but his seething hatred shone through quite clearly.

"I hope you understand, Harry," Dumbledore said, "that you are fifteen years of age and that your time at Hogwarts will be ending very shortly. These halls are well protected, but that will not always be the case. We feel that your situation needs extra care against Lord Voldermort due to the great many number of incidences concerning his return. Professor Snape will train you in extensive Dark Arts Defense techniques for at least the remainder of your studies this year. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry answered, watching Snape out of the corner of his eye. As he expected, Snape made a small sneer that was directed to no one, but was felt by everyone in the room. "I understand."


	3. Snape's Warning

"Little git! How can I be expected to teach such an incompetent, foul little-"

Harry followed Snape down the corridor, hanging his head low to avoid drawing attention to himself. But it was useless; student's eyes still followed them. Honestly, Harry would have been surprised if they hadn't noticed the odd pair. Snape was stalking (there was no other term for it) down the hall as if he were out for vengeance. Harry was trailing not far behind, but his stride was still strained, trying to keep up.

Finally, they reached Snape's office. He cursed aloud and the door opened. As Snape entered, Harry went to follow, but Snape turned suddenly, blocking the door with his palm pressed against the frame. Harry tried to stop in time, but failed as he rammed into Snape's outstretched arm. Snape's stare was ice cold as he sneered at Harry, whose spine seemed to freeze with something akin to fear.

"Before we do this, I want to make a few things clear."

Harry nodded, trying hard not to breathe the air that Snape pushed toward his face.

"You are my student. Nothing more. I am not your friend. You will not be graded better from the rest of your classmates for your regular studies, though I DO expect you to be more respectful of your responsibilities as a student since you will be training under me. I am not doing this as a favor to you nor to myself, so don't think we're going to be taking these lessons lightly." Snape straightened his posture, re-assuming his authority.

"Therefore, we shall train as such: I expect you to be here at 5:30 in the morning, sharp. We will work until the morning classes begin. Lunches will be spent studying Advanced Dark Arts theory and defense techniques. After classes, we will study Criminal Wizard's psychology and law for an hour, then practice until it is time for curfew. Weekends will be spent studying dueling techniques and theories of war. We will have none of this 'consorting' with Mr. Weasley or Ms. Granger. We will keep a timely schedule and I will NOT have any schemes, plots, or attempts to 'blindly' save the school. We start tomorrow. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "I'll be watching you, Potter." And with that, he slammed the door in Harry's face.

"Like you'll have any time to do much else," Harry muttered to no one but himself as he turned on his heel and wandered back to his own house.


	4. First Lesson

"Now then," Snape said, his robes sweeping behind him as he paced, "Mr. 'Savior of the Wizard's World…"

Harry hated this. It was only the first morning, and Snape was scowling, his pace quick and bad-tempered. If Harry had had any say in it at all, he would have asked for Sirius, who probably knew plenty of underground Dark Arts secrets from his stay in Azkaban. He knew that wasn't practical, so his best choice would have been his old Dark Arts teacher, Professor Lupin. Professor Lupin was always kind to Harry, and his friends. Sympathetic too, understanding what it meant to Harry to hear stories about his family, about a time when he was just Harry Potter, the boy who was loved by Lily and James, his loving parents. At least if he were to train, he would be training under a friend, not someone who would probably relish the chance to throw Harry to the Whomping Willow.

Unfortunately, the Order saw things a bit differently. "I'm sorry if I am not good enough for 'the famous Harry Potter', but it's no use training under a friend. You might be trained in a manner that would not benefit you." Harry wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean, but he didn't like it.

"Are you listening to me at all, Potter? Or shall we go right to work?"

"Uh, no. No Professor."

Snape scowled, but continued his lecture. "As I was saying, Potter, you are too soft. You spend your time playing Quidditch and simply passing through like ever other student is expected. But since you are training under me, I expect nothing less than the best you have to offer. After that, I expect more. You are going to excel because you must be in top shape to battle… Voldemort." Snape paused, testing to see if Harry was going to flinch at the Dark Lord's name. When he didn't, Snape took a deep breath, and let it exhale. It was odd. He knew many a brave wizard who would run and cower at the mention of 'the Dark Lord'. Even an idiotic child wouldn't let that name pass without a grimace. At least, if Harry was being trained against the Dark Lord, he wouldn't be a complete coward at the practice, or the number of things that Snape planned to put him through.

"Now then, I have set up some area to practice with boggarts, and we'll-"

"Boggarts, Professor? But-"

Snape gave him a withering look, so Harry ducked his head and followed.

At this moment, Harry would have rather been with Voldemort.

This was going to be a long year.


	5. After the First Lesson

"A boggart!"

"YES Hermione, and not just one, 17 of them! He must have spent every favor that people owed him just to get enough to torture me with." Harry sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair. It was drenched in sweat, and Harry was pretty sure that he smelled of death itself. One day, and already he thought it would never end.

"But you hate bo-" Harry shot Ron an evil look. "Never mind."

Harry gave off another sigh. That morning, he had battled them all, and shook so bad during dinner at the thought of facing them again that he couldn't eat. Of course, that didn't make their practice any easier. In fact, it had become much more difficult.

'POTTER!' he would hear, deep in his mind. Surprising, the voice resonated the same strict tone that Snape

spoke. 'You are a disgrace! The world will fall to ruins by your lack of comprehension! Your weaknesses will destroy us all! Now again, and I want to see more will to fight! Simulated or not, you must FIGHT!'

Harry shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts from his head. He hated boggarts, and he hated Snape. The screaming in his head still resonated loudly, that had not changed since third year at least. When he looked up to Ron and Hermione, he saw their worried expressions had only grown deeper.

"Night," Harry said, balancing on wobbly legs as he tried to stand. "I'm going to bed."

"But Harry, it's only-"

But he was already gone.


	6. Harry Cracks

The next few weeks to follow were brutal, to say the least. There was not a day that Snape and Harry were free of each other's company. Harry spent less and less time with his friends, dreamt about his lessons during classes, miserably tossing and turning over his day's failures during the night. He was so cranky and behind on his homework that even Hagrid had a short temper with him.

"Again, Potter! Again! The reason the Dark Arts master's succeed is because simpletons like you fail to think of more ways of defeating it! Again, Potter! I said AGAIN!"

Snape strode over to Harry, who was about to scream with frustration. It had been three days since he had last slept. The last 72 hours had been nothing but study and practice. Every movement Harry made, Snape criticized it. Every word that Harry uttered was considered blasphemous. If he dared showed hunger, fear, hatred, melancholy, he was demanded to do more work. Snape refused to give Harry encouragement, and it was starting to wear him down.

Everyone avoided him. At first, Ron and Hermione had been the hardest to convince to leave him alone to study, but now they didn't even want to come near him. Even Malfoy seemed to avoid him. He gloated at first at Harry's condition, but it only took one or two haggard glances and dark threats to keep him at a distance. It seemed that the whole of the student body saw him as diseased and contagious. It bothered Harry for a while, but the loneliness was soon fading. He didn't want to be bothered, and no one wanted to bother him, and it seemed to suit everyone just fine.

"No wonder you're failing Professor McGonagall's class, Potter," Snape said with a huff as Harry's wand sputtered. At this point, Harry could barely see straight, let alone remember the proper words to a spell. "You can't even wave your silly wand properly."

Harry's breath began to quicken.

"AGAIN!" Snape demanded. "I want to see that disarming charm performed CORRECTLY this time!"

Behind his eyes, Harry's vision started to grow dark.

"Just as lazy as your arrogant father, I see. Just as stupid. Worthless."

At that, Harry's vision began to grow in a spectacular red, blood pounding into his ears.

"Foolish."

But Harry did not move.

"A bastard whose weakness is only matched by yours!"

Harry's hand shook with bottled rage.

But Snape didn't seem to notice this, or else he didn't think much of it because he came over, cold and angry. "POTTER, I SAID--"

"MY FATHER WAS NOT WEAK! I AM NOT WEAK!" Harry bellowed.

"YOU ARE NOTHING BUT WEAK, POTTER! NOW THAT DISARMING CHARM! AGAIN!"

'One more word,' Harry thought. 'Just one more word.'

"Just as I thought," Snape sneered. "Tell me Potter, do you cry at night because you just. Can't. Take. It?"

"PERTIFICUS TOTALUS!"

Snape collapsed on the floor, stiff as a board.

Harry had just performed a full Body-Bind on his own teacher, and he could be expelled for this, but he didn't care. He would rather live with the Dursleys again than to continue living like this for the rest of his time at Hogwarts.

"The reason why I haven't been passing this term is because of you, Professor," Harry said, a heavy warning tone spilling from his throat. "I haven't slept in nearly three days! I have been working so hard in the past weeks that my friends don't even like me anymore! I have more than enough training to keep Lord Voldemort at bay until the day I die! I think I'm allowed to have at least ONE day to rest! But I'm not GOOD enough? NEVER!" Harry pointed his wand right at Snape's head, the small piece of wood vibrating with rage. "I am SO sick of hearing nothing but criticism from you! My father was not weak !And I am not weak!"

Snape's eyes focused on Harry's twitching wand. Harry's heart pounded in his chest and the crucio curse sat on the tip of his tongue, waiting for him. The temptation was so strong, it burned. Snape must have seen it in Harry's face, the gnarled twist of absolute rage. His eyes changed gradually, but unmistakably from anger to fear. He was utterly helpless against a boy he had tormented cruelly for several years.

"I am not weak," Harry repeated. He took a few rushed breaths. "You, professor, are weak."

With that, Harry flung his wand toward a shelf full of jars. Snape's eyes burned relief as a jar fell from the shelf and landed with a crash. Scarlet powder spilled onto the floor and turned the ancient Persian rug under it into a brilliant canary yellow.

Harry had seen none of it. He had left to room.


	7. Back to the Dursleys?

Harry didn't stay away for long. As soon as he got clear from the room, he rushed to the boy's lavatory, hands sweaty and shaking. He collapsed along the wall, cursing himself for losing his temper. He would be expelled for sure. He would be the hero of every house but Slytherin, having had the nerve to freeze the potions master whom practically everyone hated. But one little personal victory wouldn't make up for the fact he wouldn't be able to be part of the wizarding world again, that the Ministry of Magic would make him go live with the Dursleys until the day he died. With his luck, Uncle Vernon would find a way to keep himself alive for no other purpose than to torture Harry along side of Dudley.

Eventually, Harry made it to his feet and took the long, dreaded walk back to Snape's office. As he turned the corner, he saw a flutter of robes go around the next turn, but he ignored it. His hand rested on the doorknob. Maybe if he begged, sincerely apologized and offered to clean Snape's office for a month, he wouldn't be thrown out. Taking a few deep breaths, he opened the door to find Snape exactly where he left him, as he left him. But he couldn't plea or beg if Snape was still in a full Body-Bind. The problem was, Harry only knew how to perform the spell, but he was too tired to remember how to counteract it.

It didn't take him long to find out. On Snape's desk, a textbook was open to exact page Harry needed.

They hadn't used a textbook that day. Today was a practical lesson, and Snape's desk had been completely clear when Harry had first arrived.

Harry put it in the back of his mind. He murmured the spell and stepped back. There was an apology to be made.


	8. Snape's Orders

"First off, I'd like to apologize," Snape said, pouring a glass of brandy and then filling a second. Harry sat just opposite of Snape's desk, stunned. Only half was relief. The moment Snape could move again, he looked mad but instead of demanding more work from Harry, calling Dumbledore or pulling a cane out from behind the cupboard and demanding a right and proper traditional beating (even though Harry had never heard of corporal punishment being used at Hogwarts, he never put it beyond Snape to try to put it into good use), he stormed over to the cabinet behind his desk and produced a bottle and two glasses. He handed the less-filled one to Harry, and took a swift drink of the other.

Snape took a few more gulps from his glass before he noticed that Harry simply held his in his hand, not daring to take a drink in fear of it being bait, also remembering Professor Moody's warnings the previous year about accepting food. Was Harry really supposed to believe that the brandy had just been a gesture of good will?

"Potter, you have just used magic against your Dark Arts and Potions instructor, not to mention all of the rules you seem to enjoy breaking over the seemingly endless years you have been here. I can assure you, if anything you've done so far hasn't gotten you expelled, then a well-deserved drink won't be a risk in the slightest. And I hardly think it would be wise for me to poison you," Snape said, almost as an afterthought. "The Order is expecting me to keep you safe, not kill you." Harry paused as Snape drained his glass then reached to pour himself another. "Drink, Harry."

Harry blinked quickly. It was the first time that Snape had used his first name without sarcasm. Harry put to the brandy to his lips and took a healthy swallow. It wasn't until his nostrils started filling with the sharp smell and the heat spread through his throat and his belly that he coughed. He set down the glass, but Snape wasn't satisfied. The glare that Snape held on him burned worse then his throat, so he clutched the brandy and took another sip.

"It's not fair what has happened to you, Potter," Snape said after a moment. "You have no family to speak of, and this school is your only rightful home. I must admit, if I was in your place, and you were in mine, things would be very different." Snape poured more into his glass, but didn't drink, just held it as he talked. "Unfortunately, you are the infamous 'Harry Potter,' and I am your teacher. The Dark Lord wants to see you dead and the only way to keep that from happening is if you know all his tricks and how to fight them off. You said that you have enough training to defeat The Dark Lord until the day you die, but that day isn't too far if you don't learn all I have to teach you. Do you hear me, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes sir," Harry said, eyes drooping from the lack of sleep and the alcohol drifting slowly through his empty belly.

Snape sighed, and raised his glass, but obviously thought better of it and put down. "Also, there is the unresolved business of your father and mother--" Snape scowled and picked up his drink again at the thought. "They were very popular, the both of them; which is yet another reason why your name is so well known. Jewels of the wizarding world, made friends with so many people that it was truly," Snape sneered, "sickening." The glass in his hand took a quick trip to Snape's mouth, and then was put back on the desk with only half of its contents left in it. "It was a shock to everyone that a witch and a wizard such as your parents would be killed. An even greater shock to learn that their son, a baby no less, would have the power to destroy a truly dark and worthy opponent that could defeat even the wisest, most powerful, well-trained wizards of the age. Any age, to be exact. A baby," Snape muttered as an after-thought, but it didn't seem to be directed to anyone but Snape himself.

Harry took another drink, and felt a bit braver, but still his voice was barely above a whisper. He felt too tired. "Sir, I've heard about all this before."

Snape turned toward him. "You don't get it, do you? This is a power that no one has every thought could have been possible! I'm sure you remember your Muggle history. Adolph Hitler? Attila the Hun? Fidel Castro? Napoleon Bonaparte? Martha Stewart?"

Snape slammed his hands down side by side in front of Harry, making him jump. Snape leaned forward, almost breathing in Harry's face. The room seemed to darken by the second as an icy chill spread through Harry's spine and neck. "Image the thirst," Snape whispered, words spitting out. "Imagine the raw need for power! Imagine the lust and the greed. Imagine how they itched--" Snape's hand rose from the desk and clenched itself into a fist. His knuckles turned white. "—for everything that would make them invincible."

Snape sat in his chair, folding his hands around his glass and staring Harry straight in the eye. "When The Dark Lord gained power, at his peek, he was greater than all of the evil muggle leaders of the world. He had the means, the power, the determination, the need to do all that and more. When he was at his peak, even the bravest wizards feared to mention his name, no one dared to outright defy him. Early on, the dementors had caught him and were ordered to perform The Kiss, but even they would not even try. Understand, Mr. Harry Potter, that it takes something of pure evil for even the dementors to turn a blind eye. Especially evil that has half of the most powerful wizards and witches behind you seeking more and more power."

"What does this to have do of my parents?" Harry said. He didn't appreciate Snape's grand speeches of horrible things. The dementors had been enough trouble his third year, and the dark age of Voldemort was too terrible and far-spread not to have reached Harry's ears by now. It was as if the whole wizarding world had to announce that Harry Potter was their messiah.

"Potter, there were a great number of truly fantastic and terrible horrors that happened then. No one would like to see them repeated." The words were spoken in a clear, aggressive whisper, and Harry felt he couldn't dare another word. Snape did not seem to like being interrupted, but he dropped that particular subject after his last thoughts.

He stood again, grabbing his brandy with a confident sweep and began to wander about the room again. "Your father was very brave, very likeable, very passionate, and a down-right prat. Unfortunately, you had to be born, which leaves me graced with your presence."

Harry was not lost on the heavy bitterness in Snape's voice. Snape kept his back turned to Harry, unmovable and unreadable from such a stance. It was if the world was winding down to this moment and only this moment. It wasn't a pleasant feeling.

"You may go, Potter."

"Sir?"

"I said that you may go. I will see you in a week. And do not bother in attending my class, Potter. Otherwise, I would think that you would take pleasure in tripling your workload when you return."

Snape turned to find Harry with his mouth open and his jaw slack.

"Go, Harry. I will see you in a week."

The legs of Harry's chair made an awful scratching noise in his hurry to go. The door shut quietly. Snape turned back to his desk to find that Harry's glass of brandy was empty.


	9. Hermione's Concern

"I don't believe it, Harry!" Ron whispered over his plate. He had to admit, Harry was much more pleasant to be around when Snape wasn't a constant companion and when Harry was able to sleep for 16 hours straight.

"Snape gives you a week off? And you don't even get in trouble for petrifying him?! It's a bloody miracle!" Harry's appetite was better too, now he wasn't constantly worrying about things. Within ten minutes, Ron and Hermione watched Harry wolf down three times the amount of food he would have normally eaten, and was still going strong. "I mean, it's Snape!"

"Yes, Harry, it's Snape," Hermione said, with more caution than utter surprise. "He's always hated you, why would he actually be… nice?"

Harry glanced up from his plate, a bit of chicken hanging from his teeth. He swallowed heavily, taking a gulp of pumpkin juice before speaking. "I don't know," he finally replied. "After I petrified him, I thought I'd be kicked out, but I wasn't thinking. I wasn't."

"And that's not like you at all."

"No, it's not, but what's the point? C'mon, Hermione, Harry is getting the week off! No Snape! Not even the other teachers are getting upset that Harry missed all his classes today! You saw it in Potions yourself when Malfoy was being a prat about it and Snape told him to stop meddling in things he didn't understand! Oh, you missed an awesome class, Harry! We didn't get a lick of work done and I've never seen Snape actually talk to Draco that way, let alone for your benefit! It-"

"It's not like- Ron, he started talking about my parents." Ron and Hermione grew quiet. "He started talking as if- as if he felt pity for me."

The three friends glanced across the table at one another as the Gryffindor table clattered loudly with silverware and chatter from the other students. Unsure of what to say, all three took to eating from their plates again and didn't speak again until it was time to head off to the common room.


	10. Headmaster's Advice

"Sherbet Lemon," Snape said, quickly ascending the staircase after the creature was well out of his way.

Just as always, he found Albus tinkering around his office, taking care of his books or Faux, and looking quite calm, even though he had asked Snape to come as quickly as possible to his study to discuss certain matters.

"Ah, welcome Severus," Albus said. His voice sounded pleasant, though his face as drawn in an indifferent pose. "I thank you for being prompt, as always. Come sit."

Snape took a chair from the corner and sat down. "What is it you wanted to speak to me about, sir?"

Albus gave him a look. Both wizards knew very well what the topic of the discussion would be. "It seems that Harry Potter did not attend any of his classes today. In fact, when I asked him, he said that you had given him very clear instruction as to not come near you for a week. Is that true?"

"Yes sir."

"And when I asked Harry about his other classes, he said that he had slept the entire day and had missed them completely. When I went to talk to the other professors, they said they were asked, by you, to pardon him from some of his studies. Or am I mistaken?"

"No sir, you are correct."

The two men watched each other closely for a minute. Snape looked a bit angry, while Dumbledore patiently waited him out.

After a minute, Snape spoke. "I felt that perhaps Harry was under too much pressure. Seeing that I am, apparently, the cause of it, I thought it might be best to allow him some time to collect himself."

"It was wise of you."

"Wise, sir?"

Albus finally smiled, his lips pulled into a gentle grin. "Yes, wise, Severus. For the past few weeks, the other professors and I have watched Harry grow under great distress. From what Professor McGonagall has told me, his grades are poor, as well as the friendships he has made with his fellow classmates. Even his dearest and most trusted friends were avoiding him. Knowing Harry's history, I would hate to see him grow up without a shred of compassion and tenderness in his life."

"But the Order, and The Dark Lord…"

"They are obstacles to be certain, but Harry needs to have time to be himself, and not just the Boy-Who-Lived. We also shouldn't take away the things in life that make us appreciate what there is left to fight for."

Snape went quiet, lost in his own thoughts.

"We cannot dwell on the things that might destroy us, Severus. We must learn that life is about its forthcomings and drawbacks, but also about what it can teach us, and how we should treat others. I know that you did not like your time as a student here, but it must not keep you from the duties you have as a teacher," Dumbledore said, eyes drifting over the top of his spectacles, "or the compassion that one must have for one's students."

Snape felt a shiver creep up his spine. "I really wish, sir, that you wouldn't-"

"Mr. Potter is as much of a teacher to you, as you are to him. Remember that you can learn a lot from him as well. A boy who can defeat Voldemort not once but several times does not just have good luck on his side."

Snape wished to protest, but bit his tongue.

Dumbledore smiled again, reached for the tea tray on the desk, offering a cup and a plate of toffees. "Now, about your next week's lesson plan…"


	11. Returning

"I was thinking about what you said, Professor," Harry said.

It had come as a shock to Snape to see Harry in the Potions classroom at such an early hour. Had a week gone by so quickly?

"And you're right. As much as I've done in the past few years, I'm not ready for Voldemort. How am I going to beat someone 54 years older than me, who has been obsessed with the dark arts since childhood? I've been surviving on luck this whole time, and that's not going to work forever."

Snape nodded.

"So," Harry said, opening up his bag and carefully placing books and a large scroll of parchment on the table, "I did some research during the past week. I didn't realize that there were so many dark curses out there."

"Did you also fail to realize, Mr. Potter, that it is only 4:06 in the morning?"

Harry's hand paused in his bag. Snape, rather than composed, was uncharacteristically disheveled. His hair was tangled in knots and rather than in his teaching robes, he wore a dressing gown.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Harry said. "I just couldn't sleep."

Rather than telling Harry off, as Harry expected, Snape grumbled and disappeared into his living quarters. There was a pregnant pause, and Harry started to squirm. Maybe he wasn't meant to be here at all. He started packing up his things, planning to get back into his lessons during a more appropriate hour.

"Are you leaving so soon, Potter?" Before Harry could go out the door, he turned to see Snape, in full dress and looking much more awake, holding a tray with toast and tea. "I am, after all, quite interested to know how you happened to obtain books from the restricted section of the library." Harry hesitated.

"Sit, Potter."

Harry dropped his bag by Snape's desk, taking the opposite seat. Snape waved a hand towards the tray between them, and Harry took some toast and tea to be polite, not answering Snape's question. "We can make things a lot quicker if you were to trust me, Mr. Potter. I'm getting a little weary of having to give you reasons to answer my questions."

"Dumbledore gave me permission, sir. He called me to his office after I had missed my first day's classes and I told him everything."

"Everything, Potter?"

"Yes."

Snape poured himself some tea. "Go on."

"Well, I told him what happened, and we talked a bit."

"What did you discuss?"

Harry paused, watching as Snape took a sip of tea. Harry sniffed his own. Not detecting anything suspicious, he took a cautious sip of his. "Odds and ends, really."

Snape's eyebrow arched, but he didn't press the subject.

"So the headmaster thought it fit to have you read from the restricted section. I thought I had been giving you enough work as it was."

"No sir. I asked to read them."

"I see."

Harry nodded. So the boy wasn't quite as lazy as Snape thought. Whether he was just as stupid, it was still yet to be determined.

"Well," Snape said, resting back in his chair. "Empty out the contents of your bag."

Harry, again, paused.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Please, Potter. I simply wish to see what you have been researching. If you feel the need to hide anything from me, then refusing to open your bag is a poor way of doing it."

Harry blinked suddenly, his face flushing a bit as if he had been caught. Snape's eyes twitched. Snape hadn't been all that serious about suspecting Harry. Teenagers were naturally a bit secretive with authority. Still, it was a bit unnerving.

Diving into his bag, Harry drew out his books and papers again, spreading them along the table. Snape picked up a particularly battered book and examined the cover. He flipped it open, paying no attention to the horrific scream it gave. "Silencio," he murmured. The book fell silent. Glancing at Harry, he saw that Harry had been ready to do precisely the same thing. He muttered a few more words over the book. "I think that should take care of it for a little while."

"Thanks," Harry said. Breathing a sigh of relief.

Snape didn't acknowledge him, choosing another book. It growled and tried to nip at his fingers until he smacked on open page. The book whimpered but calmed down.

Curses, hexes, charms. Snape had to admit, these were not just simple textbooks, but very graphic, very detailed descriptions of the most evil things the wizarding world had to offer. Correction, some of the Dark Lord's most prized possessions. There was no telling how much the Dark Lord knew, or what he would use. Some of these things, Snape had never heard of.

"Professor," Harry said, turning a book to show Snape. The picture depicted a man, his body turning inside out. The blood and horrified expression alone was enough to make anyone recoil. "Why are there only three unforgivable curses? Some of these seem much more horrific."

"I'm afraid that a student's knowledge on the Unforgivable Curses tend to be somewhat lacking. Given the right circumstances, one may use an Unforgivable Curse with the Ministry's permission. Just because they are horrible doesn't mean that the Ministry is above using them for their own purposes." Snape flipped to another page, depicting another man's body being twisted in coils, limb by limb. "For example, the intorqueo curse is designed to keep a person alive while the curse is being performed, even though they technically should be dead. Same with the externus curse," pointing to Harry's picture of the disemboweled man. "These curses are sickening to the modern mind. There were many wizards and witches that were subjected to these punishments, and many of these curses are banned completely."

"What's stopping people from using them," Harry asked.

"Their conscious," Snape said, after a moment. "These curses, as far as we know, have not been used for centuries. But as the Dark Lord has proved so many times, he's beyond having a conscious."

Harry looked over the books carefully. Hopefully, Voldemort was oblivious to these horrors. He tried to imagine having his arms and legs twisted into knots, bones snapping as if they were blades of grass.

They studied the books for a while, falling into a quiet period of study. Harry started getting into a bloody chapter over medieval torture methods when he heard Snape clear his throat.

"Mr. Potter, I believe it's time for you to be getting some proper breakfast before today's class."

"Oh." Harry picked up his books and began shoving them into his bags. "So, lunch then?" he said, hoisting the strap over his shoulder.

"No, I don't believe meeting three times a day is necessary," Snape said after a moment. "Perhaps it would simply do to meet in the evenings and the occasional weekend."

Harry nodded and went out the door.


	12. Marked Improvement

There was no denying it, there was marked improvement in Harry's abilities. At first, Snape had thought that it was just a direct result of proper sleep and good nourishment, but it soon became obvious that Harry was using blocking spells and techniques that they hadn't even covered yet. Harry had taken out all of Snape's boggarts, and even requested more Snape had taken to asking Filch if they had any boggarts or unwanted creatures around the castle that needed exterminating. Filch had suggested the Weasley twins, and although it was tempting, Snape knew that Dumbledore would probably would not approve.

"Back straight, Mr. Potter! There is no need to flourish your wand. This is defense training, not theater. Watch your footing! Remember your pronunciation! One wrong syllable can mean all the difference!"

Snape watched as Harry took out one thing after another. On occasion, an errant spell hit a jar or a shelf. If Harry would only work on his aim, he might be a fair match.

Harry took one last zap, taking out one last bowtruckle before lowering his wand. He was drenched in sweat, panting heavily. An exhilarated smile spread across his face, his clenched teeth glittering by the light of the candles. It felt good taking out all his aggression. And he was getting better. Stronger.

His chest swelled proudly at the vast number of things littering the floor.

"I hope you're satisfied with yourself."

Harry blinked. He had forgotten that Snape was there.

Snape bent forward and picked up a charred carcass of a dugbog, tossing it into his wastepaper basket. "Ten points from Gryffindor for making an even bigger mess of my classroom than last time. I believe you know what to do, Mr. Potter."

Harry deflated a bit and took in the damage. His aim was horrendous. He took the bag that Snape provided him and started picking up the mess. 

Snape observed him for a moment, letting Harry handle the smoking bodies of magical rodents and pest before clearing his throat. Harry looked up.

"Since you seem to have been in good form today, I think that you can use your wand to help clean up. Although I think that you have more talent in destroying things than fixing them."

"Yes sir." Harry grabbed his wand and watched as Snape went back to grading papers.


	13. Gryffindor Common Room

Ron flopped down on the couch next to Harry. "Woo!" he said, holding his nose. "You stink, Harry."

"Hello to you, too," Harry said, gazing up at the ceiling. He was so sore he could hardly move. But he felt good, like he had accomplished something. He leaned to the side and shoved his foot under Ron's nose. With a dramatic yelp, Ron fell to the floor, pretending to gag on the carpet.

Hermione stepped over him and sat next to Harry. "Scourgify," she announced, and watched as the dirt and grime from Harry's face and clothes disappeared.

"Thanks," he said.

"We ALL thank you," Ron gasped, sitting up from the floor. "Honestly Harry. A little deodorant works wonders, you know."

"I DO use deodorant. I just get so worked up during lessons that, well. I stink!" He cracked a smile at his friends.

"Wait 'til we tell Rita Skeeter! Headline: Harry Stinks! Many Gryffindors sent to St Mungos for stench poisoning!" George barked out.

"Yea, Harry. We wouldn't want the first years to turn green would we?"

"You already turned half of the first years green last week, remember Fred?" Hermione shot him a glare.

"It was all those sweets they were eating, I swear!"

"Yea, that's what happens when they overload on Honeydukes candy!"

Hermione shot him a look.

Fred and George shot her twin too-big-to-be-innocent grins.

"You do remember that students aren't allowed to go into Hogsmeade until third year, right?" Harry asked.

"Sh-" hissed George.

"No one was asking you!" Fred said, giving Harry a whap on the head.

"If you still think that I won't write your mother…" Hermione growled out.

"Gotta go!"

"Send our love to the giant squid!"

Harry had seen people disappear before, but the twins would have only surpassed their speed if they had disapparated. Hermione's head whipped around at Harry and Ron, daring them to laugh. As it was, they were starting to choke.

"It's not funny!" Hermione sighed. "What if they make someone seriously sick?"

"They won't!" Ron snickered. "They test it out on themselves first. You know they do."

"Yea, well. It doesn't mean I approve." At that, Ron and Hermione fell into their usual mode, bickering like on old married couple. One of these days, Harry knew that they would be found in a broom closet snogging their brains out. Glancing over at them, he reasoned that it was better to be sooner than later.

Letting himself zone out, he focused on the day's lesson. Today had been great fun. Snape had given him a list of dueling spells to try that Harry had found he could do with surprising ease.

"Harry- What do you think?" Hermione asked. Harry had almost forgotten that he was supposed to be listening.

"Huh? Yea, whatever."

Hermione sat up at attention. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"No. I just was thinking."

"Bout what?" Ron sounded suspiciously muffled. Looking down, Harry saw an open package of a chocolate frog. "Want some?"

"No."

"Ha! More for me then!" he said, cramming the last leg into his mouth. "Ah! I got a Lockhart card! Why does that bloody git still have his picture on a card?"

"Well, they made so many of them. It would have been a pity to waste," Hermione answered. She picked up the card, seeing a happy but slightly mad smile grinning up at her. 'Why hello! What am I doing here?' Lockhart mouthed, but was quickly distracted by a moth flittering around the room. In a flash, the image was gone.

"I think I'm going to go to bed." Harry hoisted himself up from the couch. "It's been a long day you know."

"Alright," Ron said around a mouthful of Every Flavor Beans. "Don't forget to write!"

"Harry," Hermione said, trailing Harry up the stairs. "I have something of yours."

"Huh?"

Hermione dipped into her bag and handed him a sheet of yellowed parchment. "This fell out of your bag after Charms."

Suddenly a stone dropped through the center of Harry's stomach. "Gods," Harry choked, snatching the paper and stuffing it into his pocket. "Did anyone else see it?"

"No. What is-"

"Goodnight, Hermione. Don't tell anyone about it, ok?"

Shock hit her straight in the face. "I won't."

"Do you swear?"

Hermione nodded. With a nervous glance over his shoulder, Harry flew up the stairs.


	14. The Parchment

The first day he had the parchment, Harry couldn't bear to look at it. Besides turning yellow and brittle, it what was on the parchment that disturbed him most.

'I refuse to believe it,' Harry had said when he first saw it. Going to his trunk, he put the parchment in a book and shoved it down to the bottom. But it had haunted him. He had struggled against the urge to pull it out and look at it for three days before he broke down to look at it again.

'How could anyone be so cruel?' He had asked. This couldn't be right. This had to be a fake.

The more and more he saw it though, the more the knot in his stomach grew. This was how it was. This explained it. He thought back through the last 5 years at school. He couldn't say that he was particularly relieved.

Harry took a random book from the pile next to his floor and placed the parchment carefully between the pages. Setting the book on his nightstand along with his glasses, he blew out the candle and went to sleep.


	15. Never Mess with the Potions Master

The next evening wasn't very significant, lesson-wise. Tired of seeing Harry destroy his classroom every night, Snape decided that it might be best to work on potions, one of Harry's weaker subjects. There was always an arsenal of salves one needed when dealing with the dark arts, so when Harry had come in that night, he saw a formula for a healing potion on the chalkboard. Harry groaned.

"I thought it might be best if you had a challenge, Mr. Potter. We have all night, so I suggest you get to it," Snape said, not even bothering to look up from the papers he was grading.

'It just had to be potions,' Harry thought. He scanned the list ingredients he needed, going to the cupboard to retrieve them. He chose a cauldron near the front and set to work, chopping up roots.

Whether it was inevitable, or just unfortunate, about halfway through, Harry suddenly remembered that he had forgotten the belladonna and went to get it, accidentally kicking his bag along the way.

The contents spilled out, covering the floor. Snape looked up from his work for a moment, surveying the scene before he motioned for Harry to clean it up. Harry moved quickly, shuffling along the quills and books until something caught his eye.

The parchment had landed all the way next to Snape's desk.

Harry inhaled quickly. Snape hadn't noticed. Walking towards the desk, he bent down to pick up the parchment. 'Easy. Easy…' he thought to himself.

"Mr. Potter!"

Harry snapped up, the paper clutched to his chest. He gulped. "Y-yes sir?"

"Do you think that potion will wait around for you to dawdle?"

"N-no sir."

Snape narrowed his eyes. There was something peculiar about the way Harry was acting. He scanned Harry's eyes. When had he seen that look before? Suddenly, he remembered the morning Harry had come in with all the restricted books. Coveting his bag so closely. As if he were hiding something.

"Hand me that parchment."

"No sir."

Snape's eyes narrowed further. So that was it. "That was not a request, Potter."

Harry, however, seemed to be made of stronger stuff. Flipping the parchment behind his back, he took a step backwards. "Trust me, sir. There's nothing important on it. It's just scratch. Really."

"If it is 'just scratch', then there shouldn't be a problem. I will ask just once more, Mr. Potter."

Darting his eyes, Harry broke out into a run.

"ACCIO PARCHMENT!!"

Harry grasped futilely at the parchment, but it was too late. It landed gracefully into Snape's hand.

"Now let's see what this foolishness is all about, shall we?"

Harry held his breath. Any moment, he'll be dead on the floor. He pinched his eyes shut. Maybe Snape would make it quick.

One moment passed, then two.

Cautiously, Harry lifted one eye lid. The shock from what he saw caused the other to fly open.

Snape stood deathly still, face a brilliant scarlet as he shook in absolute rage. "Get. Out," he growled. His voice was barely above a whisper, but the tone was murderous.

"Sir, let me explain-"

"GET OUT! GET OUT!"

With that, Snape reached for his wand. One jar, two, exploded just to the right and left of Harry until Snape got right on the mark. Harry shot back through the air as he collided into several desks, causing them to scatter like toothpicks.

"GET OUT! GET OUT!" Snape had gone beyond yelling. He was beginning to screech.

Harry left his bag were it was and broke into a run.


	16. Old Pains

Dumbledore's door flew open with a bang. Professor Trelawney looked up from her teacup. Her eyes, wide as saucers, looked even wider through her large glasses.

"Why Severus!" Dumbledore exclaimed without a hint of alarm. "We were just having tea. Come join us."

Sybil looked between the headmaster and Snape. How could Dumbledore act so calmly when Snape's entire frame took up the whole door, panting painfully, hair disheveled and unkempt. His face dripped with anger and perspiration, his eyes alarmingly black. His shoulders were hunched, as if ready to pounce. In his hand was clutched a piece of yellowed parchment. Distantly, Trelawney wondered if Snape more represented a raging bull or a Romanian Ridgeback.

"Ah. I see," Dumbledore said after a moment. "Excuse me, Professor Trelawney, but I believe that Professor Snape wishes to discuss something with me. I'm afraid we will have to postpone our tea."

"Certainly, Headmaster," Trelawney said, collecting her bag. "Until next time." She approached the door, still blocked by Snape. "If you'll excuse me, Professor." He stepped aside and let her through. "By the way," Trelawney added, "you're looking a bit peaky. I'd suggest going on that holiday you've been considering. And soon." She patted him on the head. Receiving nothing but a threatening growl for her efforts, she stumbled back and headed down the stairs.

"What can I do for you, Professor?" Dumbledore said with a smile.

Snape stalked up to the desk, slamming the parchment down. "Look what I confiscated from Mr. Potter."

Dumbledore looked down, studying the picture intently. "Mr. Potter? You mean Harry?"

"How many other insolent brats by the name of 'Potter' do you know?" Snape puffed. He twitched again in rage.

Dumbledore seemed to consider this for a moment. "Well, I was wondering how long it would take for this to happen."

"For WHAT to happen?"

"I was wondering how long he would hold onto this before you found out about it."

"You KNEW about this?" Snape clutched the table so hard that it shook.

"Not only did I know about it, Professor, I was the one who gave it to him. Have a seat, Severus."

Snape took a few rushed breaths, face flushing into a deeper and deeper red.

"SIT, Severus."

At the order, Snape grabbed a chair hastily and sunk down into it. Briefly, that action reminded Dumbledore of when the potions master was nothing but a teenager, fuming over James Potter. Speaking of which--

"You brought this upon yourself, Severus."

"What did I bring upon myself?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "You've bullied Harry all these years, cursing his father every step of the way, and you expect him to not ask 'why'?"

"I'm afraid, Headmaster, that I don't understand you," Snape spat out.

Dumbledore passed him the parchment. "Tell me about this parchment."

"You remember it just as well as I do."

"Please, feel free to indulge me."

Snape closed his eyes in rage. He didn't need to look at the parchment to see it. "It's a picture of myself, during my 6th year."

"Go on."

He took a deep breath. "Hanging upside down from an enchanted broom."

"Who's broom?" Dumbledore asked.

Snape opened his eyes. "James. It was James Potter's broom."

"What else is it about this picture?"

Snape bit his lip. "The broom is flying around Hogsmeade. The whole town saw it. Lily saw it."

"Go on, Severus."

Snape shot up from his chair. "What more do you want?! Yes, I'm 16, flying half naked, upside down in the middle of winter in the middle of the Christmas rush of a busy wizarding town! After which, that prat, consumed by his own ego, decides that once is not enough, copies the picture and posts it everywhere! It took several professional curse breakers just to enchant them down. Are you happy?"

Dumbledore leaned back. "Severus, you know better than to ask that. You know I care for all my students, past and present. I did not hand Harry this parchment because I saw it fit to humiliate you." 

"Humiliate me! This goes beyond humiliation!"

"Why did James do it, Severus? If not to humiliate you?"

Snape snatched the parchment, ripping it into shreds. "The same reason you have me bound to serve you, Headmaster."

Snape turned towards the door and gave it a yank. It wouldn't budge. "Let me out."

"No."

"I said 'Let. Me. Out.'"

"And I said 'no,' Severus."

Snape flung himself into the chair across from Dumbledore, he crossed his arms over his chest, fuming.

"When Harry came up to see me after you dismissed him for a week, we discussed a few things."

"He told me," Snape said. "He said he told you everything."

"I don't know about EVERYTHING, but he told me enough."

Dumbledore paused, setting a bowl of lemon drops between them and plucked a few up for himself. "I've known all along that you've treated Harry very harshly, but I must say that your treatment of him during your special lessons was unacceptable."

"Then why didn't you mention it to me? Obviously, you noticed how he was being worn down."

"Yes. But I also know that these things have a way of working out on their own. Sometimes it's better that way. Are you sure you don't want a lemon drop? They are quite good."

"No," Snape hissed. "I'd rather not."

"Anyway," Dumbledore continued. "I knew that sooner or later, Harry would crack and do something about it."

"Hence why you had been hovering around outside of my classroom when Potter petrified me."

"Yes."

"But yet you didn't undo it yourself. You preferred to slip in while I was helpless on the floor and hope that Harry would look for the counter spell rather than say, go punish him for attacking his own teacher," Snape took a deep breath.

"Yes."

"Why is it that whenever a Potter decides to attack me, you pleasantly sit to the side and 'hope' that it will be fine?"

Dumbledore fell silent, thinking for a moment. He finally moved the dish of lemon drops aside and leaned forward. "Remember my words after Harry petrified you?"

"That he will be as much a teacher to me, as I will be to him?"

"If I were you, Professor, I would consider those words very carefully." Behind him, the door to Dumbledore's study flew open. "You may go, Severus."

Snape opened his mouth to speak, but it suddenly became very clear that the conversation was over. Striding over to the door, he took one last look at the Headmaster, who sat back in his chair, considering him.

The door slammed shut so hard that a painting fell off the wall.


	17. The Truth Revealed

The next evening, Harry strode into the potions classroom, no books, no bag. Without missing a beat, he grabbed a chair and sat in front of Snape's desk. Snape's hand paused over the papers he was correcting and looked up.

The two glared at each other for a moment.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" Snape hissed.

"I'm here for my lessons," Harry answered.

"You are excused from them. It's quite obvious you are not here tonight to learn."

"You're right. I'm not."

"Then there is no need for you to be in my classroom. Get out."

Harry set his jaw, crossing his arms over his chest. "We need to talk."

Snape grasped his quill so hard that it started to bend. "There is nothing to talk about. Be grateful that I don't remove points for being such an arrogant prat. Now get out."

Harry didn't move.

"Ten points from Gryffindor."

Harry's eyes narrowed.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor."

Harry scooted his chair closer.

"FIFTY points from Gryffindor. Shall I continue?"

"Go ahead, Professor."

With that, Snape got up, shoving his chair away from his desk with unnecessary force. "You have exactly five seconds to leave my classroom, Potter!"

"OR YOU'LL DO WHAT?" Harry bellowed. The chair knocked over as he stood up. "JUST BECAUSE YOU CAN'T GET OVER A LITTLE BULLYING-"

"A LITTLE BULLYING?! YOU THINK THIS IS JUST ABOUT A LITTLE SCHOOL-AGE BULLY?" Snape's face went blood red. "AND DO YOU EXPECT ME TO BELIEVE THAT YOU HAVEN'T SHOWN THAT PARCHMENT TO EVERY GRYFFINDOR IN THE SCHOOL? CARRYING ON YOUR FATHER'S LEGACY?"

"I DIDN'T SHOW ANYONE!"

"LIKE I'M SUPPOSED TO BELIEVE THAT!"

Harry and Snape's faces were set into scowls.

After a moment, Harry's breath became very labored. "You said early on, that if our places were switched, things would be very different." Harry's hand twitched towards his wand. "Do you think that my father would have sunk so low? To torment your son after you died? Because he couldn't get over a little grudge? What if you had a son and-"

"Don't you dare, talk to me that way!" Snape growled.

"I'll say what I want, because if you had a son-"

"I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE YOUR FATHER, POTTER! JAMES TOOK THAT AWAY FROM ME!"

Suddenly, the world that had been spinning around so fast ground to a halt.

"What did you say?"

Snape's eyes went wide, his face ashen. "I said. Get. Out."

"No," Harry said, shaking his head in anger. "That's not it at all."

"It doesn't matter what I said or didn't say! This is still my classroom and I want you out of it!"

Harry picked up the chair and sat in it again. He clutched the seat of the chair with both hands and twisted his feet around the legs of the chair. He looked bloody ridiculous, gritting his teeth and breathing harshly, like a petulant child determined to make himself sick to prove a point. His message was unmistakably clear.

"Tell me about my mother."

"You know nothing about it, Potter."

"Then make me understand."

"GET OUT!"

"NOT UNTIL YOU TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON!"

Snape grabbed his wand and approached Harry. 'This is it,' Harry thought. He wanted to screw his eyes shut tight, to hope that whatever Snape planned was quick and relatively painless, but he stared into Snape's eyes dead-on. Whatever his fate, he'd face it with dignity.

A moment or two later, Harry found himself trying to balance on his chair, which was floating to door. The door flew open, and Harry sailed through in easily, landing with a bump outside the threshold. Looking over his shoulder and ready to protest, he caught a look of complete disgust from Snape, who slammed the door in his face.


	18. The StandOff

The next night, Harry showed up. Once again, he found himself on a chair outside of the classroom. He stayed for about an hour. The next night after that, he came, found himself sitting the hallway and he stayed two hours. On the fourth night, the door was locked. Harry sat against the door and stayed there all night.

It caused a bit of attention, to say the least. At first, Filch only scowled as he had to mop around Harry. Then McGonagal reminded Harry that it was past curfew and that she was not beyond removing points from her own house.

Twenty points later, Harry still sat outside of Snape's door, calmly waiting.

"This is ridiculous!" Hermione said after commenting about the circles under Harry's eyes. "Why do you even bother?"

"Right," Ron said, chewing around a mouthful of toast. "You're there every night at seven, and you don't leave until it's time for breakfast. I mean, who in their right mind would want to hang around Snape's office all night?"

Staying out all night in front of Snape's door wasn't so bad, all in all. The benefit of having friends who were prefects meant that they were allowed to come and talk to him during the night. There was plenty of time to do homework, and Harry was finally learning to beat Ron at chess. The time before curfew was a bit of a mixed blessing. Malfoy took great pleasure in taunting him, and many of his cronies threw nuts and popcorn at him like he was an animal in the zoo. Some went as far as to make cat calls and jokes about devoted lovers. Harry ignored them.

Many students on the other hand would come up with words of encouragement. Neville's grandmother had known Harry's family for ages, and when Neville wrote her about Harry staying in the dungeon's hallways every night, she sent a good, long letter about James and Lily for Neville to share with him. Some students even brought him candies and treats that came from the packages their parents sent them.

Students were not the only ones who came to visit him. Dobby came, sometimes once or twice a night, offering tea and sandwiches. Hagrid offered some of his homemade biscuits, which Harry politely took and only ate if he was desperate. More than once, he would wake up from a quick doze to find a blanket over him. He wasn't sure who was doing that, but he was still grateful for it.

Sometimes, in the midst of all that was happening, Harry forgot how many people cared about him.

Potions class was still difficult. Snape had seemed convinced of the fact that Harry did not exist. His name was skipped over during role call, he was never called on and he was never spoken to. The only sign of his existence in the class was the grade sheet, which almost consistently showed D's for Dreadful. Every once in a while, a T for Troll was tossed in, but it didn't make much of difference how Snape graded him in class. Every night, like clockwork, Harry was sitting by the door.

Every night, like clockwork, Snape refused to acknowledge his presence.

"Harry," Hermione said, playing a hand of muggle rummy with Harry at one o'clock in the morning, "you can't keep doing this. You can't change the past, you know."

"I know," Harry replied. "But I can't just let this go, Hermione. It's like, I just can't give up on it."

Hermione thought on this a moment. "You didn't do anything to him. You don't deserve to be treated this way. It's not your fault. I mean, why would your father and Snape have hated each other so much?"

"I can't tell you, Hermione."

"Why not?"

Harry shook his head. "It's personal."

Hermione tossed down her cards. The game wasn't technically over, but neither of them had been paying attention anyway. "I better go to bed. You should too. It's stupid to sit outside and wait for someone who isn't going to budge. You're not your father, Harry. You don't owe him anything." Hermione gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Night, Harry. Try to get some sleep."

"Thanks," Harry said, giving her a weak smile. He watched her walk away, and thought about what she said, carefully mulling in over. Something struck him as odd, and it kept him awake for the rest of the night.


	19. Resolution

The next night, Harry stepped out from behind the painting leading to the Gryffindor common room. For three weeks, he had been doing this. He might not have any sanity left by the time either he or Snape caved in, but he couldn't quiet his mind. 'People aren't perfect,' Harry reminded himself. Who would Harry be in ten years? Twenty? Would he survive that long? How would people look back on him when he's dead? Harry knew himself well enough to know that he sometimes had trouble controlling his temper, that he was stubborn and, if hard pressed, so unsure of himself that it almost hurt to get up in the mornings. But from experience, he knew that all ugly traits seemed to blissfully melt away, leaving only beautiful memories of awe and respect.

'I guess when you lose someone, you tend to idolize them,' he thought, turning down the familiar corridor. All this time, he had seen his dad as a saint. 'That's typical, maybe,' he mused, but it still didn't stop the harsh reality of the situation.

"My father was spoiled rotten," Harry said aloud. He winced to hear himself say it, but it was true. He had looked up some of the records of James' time at Hogwarts. James didn't just bully Snape; he had been an all-around hell-raiser. But Snape had seemed to be the target of James' worst pranks. Maybe it was curiosity, pride or both, but Harry wondered that if his father had been subjected to the same things that Harry had to endure over the past few years, would he have acted the same?

Then Harry thought back to what Professor Lupin had told him in his 3rd year. His mother had had a knack for seeing the good in people. What had she seen in James? What had she seen in Snape?

Harry took one last turn before arriving at the potion's classroom door, and stopped dead. Did he really want to continue? He missed his bed, and it was obvious that Snape was content to let Harry just slip by, no matter if Voldemort killed him or not. Harry was dead to him. Nothing but an imprint of his father and his mother. Both a horribly painful reminder of old wounds.

Maybe it would be kinder if, for once, Harry walked away.

Harry stood in front of Snape's door. For once, the hallway was deserted.

'You're not your father, Harry,' Hermione's words echoed. 'You don't owe him anything.'

'Maybe I don't,' Harry thought to himself. 'But someone does.'

Lifting his hand, he closed it into a fist and knocked on the door.

He waited a moment and repeated the action when there was no response.

Another moment passed, and he knocked again.

Silence.

Harry thought for a moment that this was too much. 'Just walk away,' Harry thought. 'This is how it is. Don't be so stubborn.'

His hand refused to listen though. He knocked again.

This time, the door knocked back.

Or rather, something thudded on the other side of it. 'He probably threw something at the door to shut me up,' Harry thought. He pondered this for a moment, and realized that if he had heard something being thrown, then it meant that Snape could hear him.

Harry thought for a moment about this, took a deep breath, and spoke very loudly at the door.

"You have every right to be mad!" Harry said, lips almost touching the door. "It wasn't fair to you!"

He heard footsteps approaching. Good. Snape was listening.

"I didn't show anyone the parchment! Do you know what I thought when I saw it?!" Silence. "I thought it was cruel. No one should do that to other people! There was no excuse!"

After a moment of silence, there was a response. "What do you want, Potter?" His voice sounded muffled, but quiet, as if he was right next to the door.

Harry breathed a sigh of trepidation. Now or never. "I-I came to apologize," he said, his voice much quieter.

The calm was deafening, Harry realized. How much did this silence echo? It engulfed the whole hallway.

"Why should YOU need to apologize, Potter?"

"I'm not apologizing for myself," Harry answered. "I'm apologizing for my father."

With that, the unlatched, but didn't open. "You are aware," Snape said after a moment, "that your father would have thought that apologizes were beneath him?"

"Yes," Harry answered. He took a breath. "That's why I'm doing it."

The door creaked open. Harry stepped inside.


	20. Epilogue: Part 1: 7th Year: Snape

**Book 7 Spoiler Warning**

Severus Snape woke to the sound of chirping birds. Opening one eye, he saw that he was on the shore of the lake on Hogwarts property.

He sat up, looking about him. The forest seemed to be teeming with life, spots of blue and white peaking out from the canopy. Sometimes he forgot how beautiful the grounds were.

"But what am I doing here?" he muttered to himself, getting up and turning around. The last thing he remembered, he was on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, telling Harry to look at him. Nagini had attacked him. He had been bleeding.

In a sudden flash of realization, Snape murmured "Oh."

He looked down at his robes, stark white and cool. He felt his hair, his face. He was free from blood, from pain.

Bending down, he picked up a flat rock and weighed it in his hand. He stood only for a moment, considering the rock in his hand before drawing his arm back and letting it fly across the lake. It skipped merrily all the way down. He had never been able to do that before.

"Good job, Severus," said a voice behind him.

He stopped, almost afraid to turn. It couldn't be.

"It's ok. Face me, Sev."

Snape turned towards to voice, cool and musical and so very beautiful. He hadn't heard such a voice in 16 years.

Green eyes seemed to glow in the daylight, bright and luminous. Red hair was toppled over graceful shoulders, floating gently in the soft breeze that surrounded them.

"Lily," Snape gasped.

Her eyes kindly smiled as she walked up to him. For a moment, Snape didn't know what to do, where to put his hands, what to say. His breath quickened. It couldn't be. Not after all these years.

"Hello, Severus," Lily said, gasping onto Snape's slightly sweating hands, pulling herself close. "It's been forever."

Snape gasped. "Lily, I'm so sorry. I-"

She released one of her hands from his and placed it on his cheek. "Sh," she hushed, "I know."

He didn't know how it happened, but he pulled them both down, sobbing against her chest like a small child, tears flowing down his cheeks, pleading for her to forgive him. He had been young and stupid and jealous. How could he ever dare ask for forgiveness? How could she ever forgive him?

She rocked him gently, shushing him, cooing at him. Years of built up resentment and pain broke like a dam. Why couldn't he have died when he found out that Lily had been killed? Why had he even told the Dark Lord about the prophecy? He choked a laugh at that thought. What did he have to be afraid of now? Voldemort had already killed him.

Eventually he calmed down, drawing in deep breaths against her. Vanilla and hazelnut. He had almost forgotten that she smelled like vanilla and hazelnut.

"Are you better?" Lily asked, petting Snape's hair. Snape nodded and pulled away. His tears had not stained her clothes. Still, Snape ducked his head in embarrassment. Maybe this was hell, where he could not control himself. Then again, when it came to Lily, he never could. He never even wanted to try.

She placed a finger under his chin and urged him to face her. He felt young again, still fifteen and aching with all his heart for Lily to notice him as more than a friend. "There is no need to hide from me. Besides, I can't stay long."

"Where are you going?" Snape said in a trembling voice. He didn't care that he sounded desperate. He was desperate.

"I need to go see my son," Lily said. Her smile faded, and Snape pinched his eyes shut. So the prophecy was being fulfilled. Dumbledore hadn't lied to him.

"I'm so sorry, Lily."

"I know," she said, resting a hand on his cheek. He leaned into the touch. It had been so long since he let anyone get near. "Thank you," she said.

"What for?" Snape breathed. What could he have done that had made up for Lily's death, the torture of her only child?

"For protecting Harry," she whispered, rising. Snape stood with her, holding her hands in his. She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. Giving him one last smile, she turned away, walking up the hill towards a figure in the distance. It took a moment, but Snape soon realized that it was James.

They stood for a moment, staring at one another in the distance. James had seen it all. What would he do? What would he say?

After a pause, James smiled. It showed no trace of malice or contempt. He bowed his head respectfully and Snape returned it.

As he watched James and Lily disappear into the Forbidden Forest, Snape gave his first genuine smile in over 16 years.


	21. Epilogue: Part 2: 7th Year: Harry

Harry watched as the crowd started to grow. He knew that the crowd wasn't there for Snape's benefit. In fact, the only reason why people were showing up at all was because Harry was there. Harry had been the one to insist on a funeral for Snape.

'Severus,' Harry reminded himself. 'His name was Severus.'

"Harry-" He turned to see Hermione standing there. "I think it's time to start." Looking around the small gathering, he realized that he had lost track of time.

"Right," Harry muttered. He tugged at his robes. He couldn't remember being so nervous.

"Honestly," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. She tugged at his shoulders until he was properly facing her. "You just finished off Voldemort, you should be able to handle this just fine."

"Right," George said. Harry thought it was very brave for George to come. It was asking a lot for the Weasley family to attend the service. After all, they had just held Fred's funeral the day before, and none of them had particularly cared for Snape. "I mean, it would be a shame for you to survive all these years and then suddenly keel over from nerves."

Harry let out a weak laugh. It felt good to laugh, even if it felt forced.

"There," Hermione said, giving Harry's robes one last tug. "All set."

"Thanks," Harry murmured. He stood back and surveyed the crowd. Snape had not one friend in the world. People were here to humor Harry, and that was the extent of it. That didn't mean that Harry didn't try to make things look nice. Snape's coffin was black, lined with silver. On top of the casket laid a bouquet of lilies.

'Here goes nothing,' he thought, walking to the podium. People noticed him and started to gather around. He closed his eyes. 'I can do this.'

Standing behind the podium, he took out his notes and shuffled them restlessly. The words on the pages seem to blur into squiggles. 'Absolutely useless,' Harry thought.

He set them down and took a moment to breath. The crowd was patient, waiting quietly for the service to begin.

Harry took in a breath. "The world is cruel," Harry began, forcing his voice over its trembling.

He sighed, maybe he couldn't do this.

Looking up, he saw Ginny smiling at him tenderly. He remembered back to the instant he understood why Snape had been bound to keeping Harry safe.

'Love will do that to you,' Harry thought.

He took one more breath, and began again.

"The world is cruel," Harry said. "It's not always fair and we can't always control it." He closed his eyes, focusing on the images from the pensieve that Snape had shown him that night, two years before.

_'Your mother was a wonderful woman, Harry,' Snape had said. 'She didn't care that I didn't come from a happy home, or that I didn't wear the nicest robes.'_

"We come here today to honor Severus Snape. Although many did not like him- in fact, many distrusted him- we all must remember that inside each of us, there are demons."

_'I regret many things in my life. But what I regret the most is that when she needed me, I let her down.'_

"Fortunately, most of us never have to face these demons."

_'I was so angry!'_

"Most of us can simply hide them, wish them away."

_'I was so jealous!'_

"But there are a select few, who don't wish to hide their faults."

_'I chose acceptance rather than doing the right thing!'_

"Instead, they are afraid of their own good qualities. They love without acknowledgement."

_'I never thought to tell her that I loved her!'_

"They sacrifice without a word of thanks. They would rather die than let others know that there is good in them."

_'The night your mother died was the worst night of my life.'_

"Severus Snape was such a man." Harry looked up at the crowd. Most of them didn't believe him. Somehow, Harry didn't care. "He was one of the bravest men I ever knew."

The end.


End file.
